


Talk Awkward to Me

by Binsfeld



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/F, Humor, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binsfeld/pseuds/Binsfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surana utterly fails at seduction. Tired of her inability to attract anyone or even use her feminine wiles as a distraction, she begs for help from those in her group who seem most comfortable with casual flirtation. (fill for a kinkmeme prompt asking for a Warden who absolutely fails at seduction and asks her friends for tips)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

“I cannot believe you flashed your breasts to that thief. I can't believe it _worked._ ”

 

Leliana pursed her lips in a failed attempt to hide a smile. “It was just a little peek. I had to distract him _somehow_.”

 

“Yes, and _somebody_ might have taken the opportunity provided to dispatch said cutpurse,” Morrigan put in dryly. “If he hadn't been too busy admiring the view himself.”

 

Zevran was unperturbed by the accusation. “I felt it would be rude not to look. They are quite nice, after all. Anyhow, you were there in a pinch.”

 

“Hmph.” Morrigan reached across the table and stole the last of the rolls from the communal bowl, eyeing the mage beside her curiously. “What sort of face is that? Are you disappointed you didn't take a look yourself? Or are you going to go into another tiresome tirade on how I should not have killed the man? Let me remind you that he had every intention of slitting somebody's throat. The city guard would have hanged him anyway. I simply saved them the trouble.”

 

Surana slumped in her seat, waving a hand helplessly. “It's not that. It's just... I don't know how you guys do it. You make it seem so _easy_.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Zevran patted his chest with an expression of mock regret. “I myself am not so well-endowed as you three ravishing ladies.”

 

Morrigan flicked him a barely tolerant look. “You cannot mean fighting. Your spells are very powerful. For a Circle Mage.”

 

“Gee, thanks,” Surana forced herself to sit up straight. “I mean how... how _casual_ you three are with, well...” Her eyes skimmed the crowded tavern nervously, as if she feared being overheard by strangers above the din. “Do you know what would happen if I tried to flash someone to distract them? They'd cover me back up. Or laugh. Or politely point out that my clasp had come undone.”

 

“You're a little on the small size, but they are still quite lovely,” Zevran assured her.

 

She glared at him coldly. “Keep it up. I'll turn your ears into carrots.”

 

Leliana leaned across the table to put a hand over Surana's, struggling to hide a smile behind a look of concern. “Dear, that's not true. You are very pretty. Besides, it would be charming if someone were a gentleman in such circumstances, yes?”

 

Surana shook her head stubbornly. “That's not the point. The point is I have zero luck with using seduction for _anything_. It doesn't matter if I'm trying to bribe, distract, or even honestly attract someone. It never works, or it goes painfully wrong. I tried to bat my lashes at a Templar once in the Circle and forgot to watch what spell I was practicing. I singed off _so much hair_...”

 

“Well... you can't let a little thing like that--”

 

“I tried to walk in a provocative manner to catch another mage's eye once, and he tried to take me to the infirmary because he thought I had a bad limp.”

 

Zevran snatched up his tankard and took a deep gulp to disguise his laughter. Morrigan was not so polite.

 

Surana's face turned grim. “I had a plan for tricking a Templar into letting me out of the Circle by trying to get him to notice my arse. I bent over to pick up a quill; almost wagged the thing in his face. He walked by without noticing and accidentally bumped me and I fell down a flight of stairs. Don't make me continue. I have so many stories.” She let her head drop abruptly onto the tabletop with a bump. “I have as much sex appeal as a grapefruit,” came her muffled groan.

 

“Um. There, there...” Leliana patted her head awkwardly, glancing at her two companions. Her face was constricting with warring emotions of amusement and pity. “It doesn't come naturally to a lot of people. It's something you learn.”

 

“Yes! Exactly!” Surana lifted her head so quickly she almost whacked her face into Leliana's palm. “You can teach me. You're the ones always flirting to gain advantage.”

 

“I beg your pardon,” Morrigan started, a hint of offense creeping into her tone.

 

“You're the one who said that men are always willing to believe you want them.” She looked around at them, expression pitiful. “If anyone can teach me not to make a fool of myself when trying to attract someone, it's you three. Right?”

 

Zevran had finally managed to get control of himself. “And why would you crave such a skill, dear Warden? Any reason in particular?”

 

“It just seems like a useful skill, is all. A way to solve problems without needing to resort to violence all of the time. And...” Her eyes flickered, just for the barest moment, towards the bard across the table, before dropping hastily. “Look, can you teach me or not?”

 

Morrigan gave a little huff of impatience, but Zevran's generous mouth curled into a knowing little smile. “Very well, then.” He drained his tankard and slammed it down decisively. “So! We will give you some tips, yes? First: a little goes a long way, and that goes double for touching.”

 

Surana blinked, nonplussed. “That seems a little... forward.”

 

But Leliana was nodding in agreement. “Not at all. Zevran is right. Brief but meaningful contact can speak volumes. It lets someone know-- or think –that you are willing to do quite a bit of touching, if you catch my meaning.”

 

“Are you suggesting I go up to someone and grab their arse?”

 

Zevran laughed. “Now that I would pay to see.”

 

“Nothing so forward,” Leliana said hastily. She reached out, placing her hand softly atop Surana's once more, a lingering touch that lasted a heartbeat longer than a casual friendly gesture. “Like so. As you speak, hold their eyes with your own, and touch their hand or their arm. Brush your shoulder against theirs, or 'accidentally' let your knee touch their own.” Under the table, her foot just barely touched Surana's, and stayed there. “It is a gentle but unmistakable body language. You see?”

 

Surana flushed, but nodded dutifully.

 

“There's no need for something that subtle,” Morrigan scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Observe.” She turned her head towards a young Templar seated a few tables away and stared hard at the back of his head. After several moments, feeling the intense gaze, he glanced around and met her eyes. Morrigan stared boldly back, eyes lidded, and after a brief hesitation allowed her lips to twist in a slow but sensuous smile, never averting her eyes from his own.

 

The man flushed red and looked away hastily, lips moving in what was no doubt a quiet plea for fortitude from Andraste.

 

Morrigan chuckled throatily and looked away from him dismissively. “You see? A look can do as much as any touch.”

 

“Nicely done,” Zevran approved.

 

Leliana pursed her lips. “Yes. But I am not sure Surana could pull it off.”

 

“Why not?” Surana demanded, vaguely offended.

 

“Hmm, perhaps not,” Zevran agreed reluctantly, looking from one mage to the other. “You look too petite and innocent, my dear. It is your youthful face and your adorable little nose. The bold seductress look would not suit you.”

 

Surana scowled at him. “Don't talk about me like I'm twelve.”

 

“It is alluring in its own way, to be sure,” Zevran said. “But very different from Morrigan's own... charms.”

 

Morrigan arched a brow at him at the delicate way he said “charms”, but let it slide. “And I meant what I said before. Men are quite willing to believe that you find them attractive. Bat your lashes and be attentive to whatever inane dribble is coming out of their mouths, and the ego boost will do the rest.”

 

“I myself have found that flattery and outright propositioning are most effective,” Zevran declared.

 

“Yes, it worked so well when we first met,” Surana drawled. “Coming onto Leliana and myself five minutes after trying to kill me almost got you a bolt of lightning to the face, if you recall.”

 

Zevran coughed in feigned embarrassment. “My timing may have been slightly off, considering the circumstances. But you would be surprised how often a compliment or a not-so-subtle hint of how talented my hands are has gotten a complete stranger to take off their clothes.”

  

“I, for one, would not be surprised,” Morrigan sniffed.

 

Zevran bowed his head graciously. “Thank you.”

 

“Twas not a compliment.”

 

“It also helps,” Leliana said over them, “if you get a general idea of your target. A loud, drunken man boasting in a tavern, for example.” She nodded towards such a man loudly ordering another round from the stone-faced bartender. “Subtlety will not work on him; he can barely feel his extremities, much less someone else's soft touch. You would have to be more direct. Or play the besotted simpleton.” She frowned at Surana slightly. “This is only if you wish to trick him, mind you. You should not act foolish, something you are not, for someone you genuinely like.”

 

“Playing the part of the giggling maiden has worked before,” Morrigan was forced to agree. She took on a foppish look and pitched her voice an octave higher. “What big arms you have! How tall you are! I'll bet you could lift this barstool with me on it, and little old me can barely lift a tray of tea!” She grimaced, waving her hand dismissively. “It is to be used only on idiots or drunkards. The indignity is not worth it otherwise.”

 

“Breasts are also quite the attention-getter,” Zevran said, looking pointedly at Leliana's chest as if hoping for a demonstration. “As you saw earlier.”

 

Leliana rolled her eyes, but could not quite bite back a small smile. “Yes, this is true. It is pretty effective on all men. If you are wearing something low-cut...” She folded her arms on the table and leaned over so that her arms pushed her breasts up. “Show them off, thus.” Her leather armor covered her all the way to her neck, but the effect was, Surana privately noted, still quite appealing. “You can also brush his arm with them when you lean in to speak to him. Even a drunken man will notice this.”

 

“Okay, but...” Surana looked around at them all, seeming unable to look directly at Leliana. “Most of these tips seem to be geared towards men.”

 

“Oh, it is a lady you wish to entice, is it?” Zevran teased, though there was something about his smile that hinted his surprise was false.

 

Surana felt her eartips grow warm. “It's not-- I just meant-- Well, what if I need to distract a female thief or... or something?”

 

“Alas, women are not so easily fooled,” Zevran sighed dramatically. “Also, they have breasts, so I imagine seeing another woman's is not quite as invigorating as it is for men.”

 

Leliana made a disbelieving noise in her throat before turning back to Surana. “Women who are attracted to other women will catch subtleties that men sometimes miss,” she said. “Determining if they _are_ interested is a bit trickier. If a man is not interested in women, he will ignore your breasts as if they aren't even there, even should you flaunt them.” She paused. “Or he is a gentleman.”

 

“A rare and elusive creature,” Morrigan muttered into her tankard.

 

“How can you tell with, er, women?” Surana asked, trying to sound casual.

 

“Well...” Leliana thought for a moment. “Watch their eyes. See if they linger, and where. Watch if their mouths get soft, or if they smile a lot. See if they are using some of the same things we have mentioned, such as touch.” She stopped, looking away abruptly. “It is hard to tell, sometimes,” she said, voice businesslike. “In the end, honesty works best, I think.”

 

“Yes, some women can be rather dense,” Zevran chuckled, still grinning at Surana. Leliana glared at him, giving the tiniest shake of her head.

 

“You don't need a lecture, you need practice,” Morrigan proclaimed, jerking her chin towards a man seated alone. “Go. Ask him if you may join him. Play with him for a bit.”

 

Surana balked. “What? Now? But--”

 

“Yes, yes, practice is the only way you can truly learn,” Zevran said, reaching across the table to give her a little push. “Go on, he looks young and impressionable. We will coach you from here if necessary.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

Nervously tweaking her robe to straighten it, Surana made her way over to the man's table. She hovered there for a few moments, wondering if she should cough to get his attention. She cleared her throat delicately, but he didn't look up. Curious as to what could have him so preoccupied, she took a peek at the papers spread over the tabletop. It looked like accounting.

 

She hesitated, shooting a look back towards her own table. 'He's busy,' she mouthed.

 

'Go on,' Morrigan mouthed back, expression stern. Zevran and Leliana nodded encouragingly.

 

Surana took a deep breath and tried to make her voice perky and inquisitive. “What have you got there?” Her last word ended with a squeak as the man gave a startled jump.

 

“Oh! Um. Sorry. Didn't see you there.” The man looked her up and down briefly. She was pleased for a moment before she noted the distinct lack of interest or pleasure in the look. He was merely trying to figure out who the hell was interrupting him. “Oh. Yes. Um, I'll take another ale, please.” He bowed his head over his papers once more, scribbling equations in the margins.

 

Surana deflated. “I'm not a barmaid,” she said, a little sharply.

 

“Sorry, what?” He looked back at her, blinking owlishly, mind obviously still wrapped around his numbers.

 

“I was just...” She hesitated again, and forced herself to stand still when she realized she was fidgeting. “I was wondering if... I could, um... join you?” _Negative five points for lack of suave,_ she thought with an internal wince.

 

“Oh.” He blinked again. “Oh! Er... well...” He looked from her to his papers helplessly. “I'm a little busy, and...” He frowned faintly, eyeing her robes in confusion. His gaze flickered towards a scantily-clad woman draping herself across a man at the bar.

 

“And I'm not a harlot,” Surana snapped.

 

“Obviously.” He eyed her chaste robes again. “Thank you, young lady, but, um... again, I'm rather busy.” He returned to his work.

 

Surana stood, mouth slightly open. “Young lady”, indeed! He didn't even look thirty. She'd wondered before if her pixie face had anything to do with rebuffs before; apparently this answered the question. “Just how young do you think I am?” she demanded before she could stop herself.

 

He tore his eyes from his papers, staring at her as if surprised to find her still there. “What? Er...” He seemed to realize his error and flushed. “I'm sorry. You're so small, and... well... You're probably not as young as you look.”

 

She folded her arms huffily. As an afterthought, she used the movement to try and bolster her small breasts a little. The effect was lost in the robes. “I was just trying to be friendly, seeing how you're drinking alone.”

 

“Because I'm busy,” he repeated, starting to look annoyed.

 

“Oh, forget it!” She turned on her heel and stormed off.

 

Zevran was snickering into his ale when she dropped gracelessly into her seat, and Morrigan was tutting with disapproval.

 

“You gave up too quickly,” she admonished.

 

“He said he was busy,” Surana growled, grabbing her own ale and hoping her face wasn't as red as it felt. “Anyway, he seemed to think me a child. Do I really look _that_ young?”

 

“What is wrong with looking young?”

 

“I mean young enough to put men off.”

 

“Shall I answer truthfully?” Zevran mused, obviously enjoying her dilemma.

 

Surana offered a rude gesture.

 

Leliana made a sympathetic noise, patting her hand in encouragement. “Now, now, don't be discouraged. Try again.” She looked around and pointed at a pair of men in a corner booth. “Ah, perfect. They will feel compelled to fight for your attention. Not literally,” she added at Surana's alarmed look. “They don't look very drunk. But when a pretty girl comes to talk to multiple men, they will vie for your affection to one-up each other. They cannot help it.”

 

“She has a point,” Morrigan put in with a sniff. “Men are such simple creatures.”

 

“You wound me,” Zevran said with mock indignity, putting a hand over his heart.

 

“Do I have to?” Surana groaned. She was beginning to regret ever asking for advice.

 

“Be off with you,” Morrigan commanded.

 

“You'll be fine,” Leliana said more kindly.

 

Sighing, Surana forced herself to get up and pick her way across the tavern to the the men. She was only halfway there when a figure moved swiftly to intercept her, blocking her view with a shining metal breastplate emblazoned with an all-too-familiar symbol.

 

She recoiled instinctively, biting her tongue to stop the stammered excuse that leapt so readily to her lips. _Fool,_ she reprimanded herself. _This is not the Circle. You don't have to explain away your every move and intention._

 

Yet the templar standing before her now seemed to expect such an explanation. He was in his forties, at least, which never boded well. Younger templars sometimes tended to be a bit more lenient, more sympathetic. It was the older ones, those that had been guarding and hunting mages for ten years or more, that were to be avoided at all costs. They'd seen the worst of mages, and saw corruption everywhere they looked. They'd heard every excuse in the books. Worse, they'd spent enough of their lives trapped with resentful and frightened mages, denied a family, wielding supreme authority, and many many boring hours of guard duty. Many of them found their amusements in the mages, sometimes in the most cruel ways. Surana had known too many bullies in armor in her life, and her first instinct was still to scuttle back to the safety of her table with a murmured apology for existing.

 

Somehow, she found the willpower to hold her ground. “Excuse me.”

 

He stared down at her, mouth pulling in a deep frown. Not everyone recognized the robes of a Circle mage at first glance, but a templar certainly would. Worse, he could likely sense the aftereffects of the lyrium she'd imbued during the recent battle with the thieves in the alley. “What do you think you're doing in here alone?” His eyes swept the room slowly, meaningfully. He already knew there were no templars or senior enchanters escorting her. He thought her a runaway. And after that debacle in the Circle with Uldred...

 

Surana's throat was dry, but she tried to keep her voice as casual and polite as possible. “I am still of the Circle.” Which was partly the truth. You were never completely free of the Circle. She was quite certain even the First Enchanter considered her to be “on loan” to the Wardens. That was certainly how Greagoir viewed her situation. “I am here on Grey Warden business.”

 

“Are you.” His tone was flat and unbelieving.

 

Surana's hand started towards the nape of her neck automatically before she remembered she no longer wore the Warden's Oath she'd received after her Joining. She'd swapped it months ago for a gem that boosted the power of her spells. What proof did she have on her, other than the taint running through her veins?

 

She had names.

 

“Knight Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving both gave their leave for me to join the Wardens nine months ago.” If only Wynne was here! She'd know what to say. The templar might even recognize her.

 

The name-dropping did give him a moment's pause, but his frown didn't soften. He didn't believe her. She could see it on his face. She could prove she'd once been part of the Circle; that didn't mean she hadn't fled during the chaos that had very nearly brought the annulment down on every mage within.

 

“We'll see what the Knight Commander says about it,” he said stiffly, and seized her arm in a hard grip.

 

She bit back a small gasp of pain. Fright burst in her chest, along with a healthy dose of outrage. She struggled to keep both emotions from showing. Any hint of rebellion could result in him dampening her magic or even knocking her about a bit. And he might enjoy the fear. “You have no right. I'm on Grey Warden business.”

 

He grunted, no longer listening, and steered her bodily towards the door. She resisted for a moment, but he was much stronger than she, and had almost a hundred pounds on her. Even that small show of defiance caused him to tighten his grip painfully.

 

Then, out of nowhere, Leliana was there, in between them and the door.

 

“And what's all this, then, Ser Knight?” she asked, voice and smile at their most charming. “Where are you taking our dear Warden off to?”

 

“Out of the way, woman. This is official templar business.”

 

“He has hearing problems, I think,” a voice said from behind, and Surana craned her neck to see that Zevran had positioned himself at the templar's back. She grimaced at him in a silent but frantic signal to not draw the dagger at his belt he was so thoughtfully caressing. He shrugged slightly in acknowledgement and let his hand drop. “Did you not hear the lady? This is a Grey Warden. _Our_ Grey Warden, to be more specific, and we would very much like her back.”

 

The templar stepped to the side and turned so he could look at them both, his face dark with a scowl and his hand still tight around Surana's arm. “You don't look like Grey Wardens,” he snapped.

 

“Alas, we do not hold that lofty honor,” Zevran sighed in mock regret. “We do, however, travel with two.”

 

“We have a meeting with Arl Eamon later this afternoon,” Leliana put in delicately. “I do not think he would appreciate you accosting the woman he seems hell-bent on putting in command of his armies.”

 

The templar made a noise that indicated he was choking off an exclamation. Clearly the thought of a mage leading anyone into battle was ludicrous to him. Even at Ostagar, Surana recalled, the Circle mages that had come to help had been regarded with suspicion and been kept in the back ranks. It made the troops feel safe from “accidental” friendly fire, but had, in her private opinion, probably cost them greatly when the bulk of the darkspawn army broke through.

 

Leliana frowned slightly, eyeing his numbing grip on Surana's arm, and seemed to come to the conclusion that their words alone would not sway him. “This can be settled quickly if you will only accompany us to the Arl's Estate.” Surana glanced at her. She'd half expected Leliana to attempt flirtation, but other than a friendly smile, she had instead adopted a formal but firm attitude. Was it because she sensed seduction wouldn't work, or because the situation was so dire? It was another glimpse at the same bard who had questioned the men Marjolaine sent after her.

 

The templar hesitated, then nodded once. At Leliana's pointed stare, he slowly and reluctantly released Surana. She stepped back from him immediately, her arm aching. She risked a quick peek towards their table. Morrigan was still there, wisely keeping out of the templar's sight. Surana noticed, however, that her hand hovered mere inches away from the staff she'd stowed under the table. She would blast the templar against the wall with fire if things went south, Surana had no doubt of that.

 

“We'll go immediately,” she declared, relieved to hear not a trace of a tremor in her voice. “The Arl can clear this up for you, since you clearly have no interest in listening to _me_.”

 

He shot her a narrow glare at her impudence, but she was past caring. Holding her head high, she led the way towards the door. She caught Leliana making a discreet hand motion towards Morrigan; a silent order to follow from a distance. Heart banging in her ears from the scare and her bottled-up anger, Surana marched out of the tavern, leading the way to the Estate.


End file.
